


Something Found

by der_tanzer



Series: Lost and Found [2]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-21
Updated: 2010-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The road to recovery is long, but with the right companions, any journey can be a pleasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost at Sea

**Author's Note:**

> No actual violence or non-con, just references to past events. (See Something Missing.)  
> With endless thanks to Hardboiledbaby, who made me start.

Murray was still walking slowly, bracing himself on walls as he moved between the cabin and the head, and not climbing stairs without a strong arm around him. It was four weeks to the day since he'd been stolen from the parking lot of the King Harbor Public Library, and he was still hiding out at sea. The Riptide lay on the hook in a bay off some island he didn't know the name of, and it had been two weeks since he last saw anyone besides Nick and Cody. That was exactly what he wanted, but he wondered about them. Maybe they were getting in the mood to go home. He didn't think he'd been very good company lately, but they were too much his friends to say so.

There was a knock on the door and Murray opened it, not turning away from the mirror. He was shaving about every three days now and this was one of them.

"You about done?" Cody asked, not sounding at all worried. "Nick's got breakfast ready."

"Yeah, one minute." Murray smiled a little to himself as he finished. The stairs were a good excuse for Cody to hang around but he knew the truth. He'd been behind a closed door with access to razors for more than ten minutes and Cody was checking up on him. There was no danger, Murray was confident of that, but he understood his friends' fears. They must have felt like he was slipping away so many times those first two weeks, starting with his actual disappearance. He wished, for maybe the hundredth time, that he hadn't made that mistake with the pills. Nothing was worth what that had done to them. It might be weeks or months before he lived it down, and it might be never. Someone might dole out his painkillers and watch him shave for the rest of his life. Well, there were worse things.

He washed his face, combed his hair and turned to Cody with a perfectly charming grin.

"You look good this morning, Boz."

"Thanks. I feel pretty good. Are we having pancakes?"

"Of course." Cody slipped an arm around his waist, careful to stay below the broken ribs, and supported him up the aft stairs. "Still tired?"

"A little. I didn't get my pill from Nick this morning, though. I'll have one after breakfast and take a nap on deck." Sunlight was pouring through the salon windows, calling to him in spite of his sensitive skin.

"Sounds good. I have some work to do out there if you want company."

"I always want company."

Going down the forward stairs was a little harder and Murray clung to the rail with his free hand. He hated walking down stairs, ever since that man had pushed him into the basement of the house in the desert. It made him feel dizzy and unstable, as if he were going to fall headlong at any moment. But Cody gave him strength and he swallowed his fear, entering the galley with his smile still in place.

"There you are. I made a pot of that lemon syrup you like."

"Hey, thanks," Murray said, sitting down with a barely stifled groan. Both men turned to him with sharp looks and he pretended not to notice. There was a lot of that going around the boat these days. Nick sat beside him and Cody took the other side of the table, giving him a choice between feeling safe or trapped. Generously, he opted for safe and started cutting his pancakes.

"Guys, I've been thinking maybe it's time to head home," he said quietly.

"Yeah?" Nick asked, carefully noncommittal.

"Well, we have things to do, don't we? I've been working a little, but nothing like I could do in port, and we don't have any cases. Isn't it time to pick up our lives again?"

"If you're ready," Nick said, still noncommittal. Murray looked to Cody for his input.

"We have things to do," Cody said slowly, "but nothing that can't wait. It's up to you."

"I know. I think I'm ready, though. I'd like one more day, but we could go home tomorrow. If that's okay with you. I mean, you're the captain."

"Fine with me. We need more groceries and fresh water, but we'll last all right until tomorrow." Mama Jo, whose crew were the only people who knew precisely where the _Riptide_ was from day to day, had brought them supplies and filled their water tank a few times already. A Coast Guard cutter checked in by radio every day, but they'd never made visual contact with it. It was Quinlan who'd put in the request for periodic welfare checks on the _Riptide_ crew, and he'd also asked that they not be approached too closely, though the subjects of the request didn't know that. If they had, Murray might not have asked Cody to move the boat so many times, creeping at night from one secluded bay to another.

After breakfast, Murray took his pill and Nick walked him up the stairs and out onto the fantail where his lounge chair was already set up in the sun. It was uncomfortable lowering himself into it, and pure misery getting up, but the time spent in it was wonderful.

"You need your hat," Nick said. "How about sunglasses?"

"No, but I'd like a book. I think I left _Master and Commander_ by the bed."

"Yeah, I saw it last night." Nick went below and Murray covered his eyes with his hand to shield them from the sun. He was dressed in jeans and a t shirt with a long sleeved over-shirt, protecting himself from the sun and hiding his scars. It wasn't that the guys hadn't seen them, or even that he didn't want them to, it was that he didn't want them to _casually_. He was protecting his friends in the last way he could, by preventing the random, thoughtless exposure that could interrupt any moment and bring any conversation to a halt.

"You're gonna get too hot," Nick said, dropping the hat in his lap. Murray put it on with a shy smile.

"If I do, I'll go inside. Did you find my book? Oh, thanks."

Nick sat down on the bench and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He was wearing nothing but cutoffs and deck shoes, already prepared for the heat of the day.

"Are you sure about going in tomorrow?" he asked quietly.

"Well, I think we should. We said a week and it's already been two. I think if Cody could afford to live at sea full time, he would have been already."

"Yeah, but this is different. We can get along a while longer if you want. If that's what you need."

"No, I'm all right." He tried to smile and saw that Nick wasn't buying it. "Okay, I'm not all right. Is that what you want to hear? But I'm better. I can go home. I might not want to leave the boat, but I can live at the pier again, okay? And we have things to do. I have to talk to my agent about this book, and call Mama. I sent that letter the day we left, but who knows what she's seen in the media by now."

"Cody heard from the Coast Guard that Quinlan's talked to her. He told her it wasn't that bad and that the press is blowing it all out of proportion."

"Great, now Quinlan's lying to my mother. I know, it's what I would have said, but she should still hear it from me."

"Yeah, she should. But you can still change your mind today. Or even tomorrow."

"I know." Murray pulled the brim of his hat down more over his eyes, thumbed his book restlessly, and then turned back to Nick. "Is it really me, or are you worried for yourselves, too?"

"What does that mean?" He sounded offended but Murray wasn't fooled. He also sounded busted.

"Are you ready to associate in public with _that guy_? Because it won't just be me that people are staring at and talking about."

"I know that. I won't lie to you, I have thought about it. But my skin's pretty thick and I can take care of myself if someone wants to fight. And if you think I wouldn't want to be seen with you or something, that's just stupid. I've always been proud of you, Murray. I know I sigh and roll my eyes when people recognize you on the street, but secretly I'm proud of everything you've done."

"Really? I didn't know that."

"Of course not. You're so far out of my league it's not even funny and you think I'm going to _tell_ you? No way."

Murray laughed uncertainly, blushing darkly under his hat.

"But when people recognize me now, it's just as likely to be bad. You can't be proud of this."

"Sure I can. We found you and you survived. It was a good day's work all around."

"How come I'm the genius and you keep out-talking me?"

"I specialize in rationalizing. I'm gonna go get my book. You want some orange juice or something?"

"No, thanks."

"I'll bring some zinc for your nose," he said and got up. Murray watched him go, rubbing his eyes and wondering if it was really that easy. Out here it might be. The boat and the ocean were simple things, simply understood. Society was something that had always baffled him and probably always would.

Cody was on his way out to the fantail when the radio called him back to the wheelhouse.

"Coast Guard cutter, calling yacht Riptide." A brief pause. "Coast Guard cutter, calling yacht _Riptide_." Cody recognized the voice, the same young captain who checked in every time, and who had become known to him in a casual kind of way. They would never meet but they liked each other, as captains usually did. Cody waited, not picking up until the bored professionalism broke. "Yo, Riptide, y'all got your ears on? Come back."

"Copy, Coast Guard. This is the yacht Riptide. How's it going, Roscoe?"

"That's what I'm supposed to be asking you all, Cap'n Allen. None of you boys eaten by sharks yet?"

"That's a negatory on the sharks. You ought to come by for a drink, Roscoe."

"Wish I could, but we got all the partying we can handle here on the USS _Cutty Sark_." Then his tone dropped into one of bland efficiency. "Riptide, confirm status of all crew and passengers. Over."

"Crew and passenger status is A-1-A. We may be heading in tomorrow. Will confirm at next check in. Over."

"Copy that, _Riptide_. Status confirmed, ten thirty-three hours. Best to the doctor. Coast Guard over and out."

"Copy, Coast Guard. _Riptide_ out." He racked the mike and went down to the fantail.

"Still flirting with Captain Roscoe?" Nick teased.

"Yeah, and getting nowhere."

"That's just because he hasn't seen you in that hat," Murray said. "Is it strange to anyone else that they just take our word that things are okay?"

"No, if we needed help, we'd ask for it. You might be under observation, Boz, but you're not a criminal."

"Sometimes I feel like one," he muttered, then changed the subject. "What are you guys doing today?"

"I'm going to do some paint touchups on the foredeck," Cody said. "What about you, Nick?"

"Trying to avoid painting the foredeck. How about you, Murray?"

"This, same as always. Cody, what's a fo'csle?"

"A what?" he asked, and Murray spelled it.

"You know what you're going to love? I've got a book somewhere of obscure nautical terminology, specifically relating to that book. Nick, if you don't want to paint, you can help me find it."

"Great, I'd love to. Searching every locker on this boat is much more fun than whatever I was going to end up doing."

Murray smiled and Nick's sarcasm turned sincere. Doing things for him really was still fun.

***

The long afternoon passed in the way they only do at sea. The sun crossed the clear sky so slowly it might have been standing still, while Murray lay on the deck, sweating softly beneath it for a timeless eternity. Every once in a while one of the guys would bring him a glass of ice water or juice and reapply sunscreen to his exposed hands and throat. The rest of the time he listened to them, moving things around below deck or talking in the salon. There was something for lunch, but whether it was on time or not was unknown and irrelevant. Murray loved this, being frozen in time on the vast blue sea, and it was that love that made him think they needed to go home. If he stayed much longer, he might not ever be able to leave.

"Hey, Murray, you want some supper?"

He looked up into Cody's light blue eyes and tried to decide. It should be an easy question, but in the sultry heat of the late afternoon, he couldn't quite tell.

"What are we having?"

"Sandwiches, macaroni salad. The usual. Come on, you're too hot."

"Am I?"

"If you don't know, you are. Let's go get you a shower, okay?"

"Why not," he shrugged, letting Cody pull him to his feet. As soon as he tried to stand, he realized how oppressive the heat really was. Cody held him up, got him inside and down the stairs to the head. It was cooler below deck but not by much. It got better when he undressed and Cody turned on the cold water. In the privacy of the head, in the context of a shower, it was okay to expose his scars. Cody knew what to expect.

"I can do it myself," Murray said, stepping into the cold spray.

"Can you?" Cody wasn't disbelieving, just curious. It had been a month but Murray still carried deep bruises that worried his friends. Wanting to prove Cody wrong, he got the shampoo and reached for his hair. It was the first time he'd tried and his low groan told Cody is wasn't going to work. "Your shoulders hurt, Boz?"

"Yeah, but it's more my ribs. I can't stretch. This really sucks."

"I know it does," Cody said, already stepping out of his shorts. "But it's nothing I don't want to help you with."

"And I appreciate it, but it still stinks." He stood still, head back, eyes closed, and let Cody wash his hair. It progressed rather naturally to washing his back, and then Murray turned around.

"Want me to finish?"

"No, thanks. I'm okay now."

"All right. I'll get you a towel." Cody didn't want to leave him like that, but Murray was entitled to whatever privacy they could manage to give him. What he wanted privacy from was obvious. There hadn't been any sexual contact after that first night, and Murray went out of his way to avoid it. He allowed his friends to care for him and lavish affection on him, but it never turned sexual. Even when Murray was visibly aroused, as he was now, he still cut it off before it went too far.

The shower turned off and Cody handed him a towel. He'd gotten Murray's robe, too, and leaned against the counter while the skinny man put it on and dried his hair.

"Thanks, Cody. I feel better now."

"No problem. You want to get dressed or eat in your robe?"

"Robe's fine. I'll probably get all stoned and go to bed right after." He smiled as if it were a joke but Cody wondered. No one could grudge Murray the painkillers he took but they wondered if the dose wasn't supposed to go down at some point. Murray never developed much of a tolerance for things and the drugs still hit him hard, but he wasn't cutting back.

"We should call Gem when we get home," Cody said suddenly. "She'll want to know how you're doing."

"Yeah, I guess so. She didn't want me to stay away so long, did she?"

"It's not always about what other people want, babe. Come on, Nick's got a nice ham and cheese all ready for you."

***

After supper, Murray took two pills and went to bed with his book. He planned to read for a half hour or so, knowing he could sleep through the night in spite of having napped most of the afternoon. But it was Nick's turn to put him in his pajamas while Cody washed dishes, and Nick wanted to talk.

"You haven't rethought the whole going home thing?" he asked as he slipped Murray's arms into his sleeves.

"I've been thinking about it, but not rethinking. I'm ready, Nick. I need to try and face things."

"That's what we're worried about. What if you try and it's harder than you expected? How much can you handle?"

"I don't know. No one knows until they try." He sat down on the bed and took Nick's hand, indicating that he wanted Nick to sit beside him. "We've talked about this, haven't we? You know that I'm not going to hurt myself. Whatever happens, we'll handle it together, right? Isn't that what you promised?"

"Yeah, that's the promise. It's hard not to worry about you, though. You've always pushed yourself so hard and you're not—you're not strong yet."

"I'm strong enough. I can't hide out here forever, Nick. We have to go home sometime."

"I never thought it'd be you talking me into it," he said, laughing a little at himself.

"Neither did I. I never thought you guys would have this much patience."

"It's not so bad. You've helped a lot, being strong for us."

Murray blushed and lowered his eyes, pleased that they had noticed.

"I've tried awfully hard. But things aren't—normal, are they? I don't feel as bad as I did before, but I don't feel right."

"Not right how?"

"Oh, you know," he said vaguely, waving it away with a flick of his hand. "You feel it, too, don't you? That things are—different?"

"Yeah, okay. I guess I do," Nick said slowly. "But it's going to be different for a while. You know that."

"I remember. I needed a break from trying to be normal, and I've had it. Now I need to see if I can go back. I don't think I can rediscover normal while we're in hiding."

"Just how much normal are you aiming for?" The question might have come off as cruel but Murray understood.

"A little. Walking around the pier, maybe. And going to the library. I need to be able to do that. And I need to find out if I can look people in the eye when I talk to them. It's easy here, with just you and Cody. But even with you, I'm not really normal, am I?" He hadn't mentioned sex, he never did, and Nick almost brought it up. But Murray was tired, and Nick was a little scared, so he fell back on the party line.

"You're doing fine."

"Yeah, sure, fine. But not normal."

"Murray, you never were normal. You've always been too sweet and smart and transparent for that."

"Okay, so that's the normal I have to get back to. I'm not pretending for a minute that I can be you. I just want to be me again."

"Well, I can't argue with you, Murray. I'd like that, too. It's just that—I guess what I'm really worried about is that we'll get back to our normal lives and maybe not pay as much attention to you as we should, and we might—we might miss something."

"Like you missed the pills," he said, not asking.

"Yeah, like that. I don't want to start thinking you're more okay than you maybe really are. Out here, that's not such a risk. We don't really think about anything else. At home, with cases and errands and all that trivial stuff we do all day, it'll probably be different."

"I know. I've thought about that. We'll just have to do the best we can. And if it's all too much, we can run away again, right? We'll still have the boat, and the ocean will still be here."

"Yeah, I guess so. But I want you to see Gem as soon as we get back, and we're going to keep holding your pills."

"Sure. But you'll have to remember to leave me one when you go out." He spoke calmly, releasing Nick's hand and laying down carefully, biting back a groan at the pain in his ribs. Nick lifted his legs into the bed for him and covered him with a light sheet. When Murray looked comfortable, he sat down on the floor and rested his arms on the bed, as if meaning to stay a while.

"What makes you think we'll be leaving you alone?"

"You'll have to sometimes. You guys always go out together while I'm doing my computer work. Especially if we have a case, you can't go out without backup. You guys can't buy _groceries_ without backup."

"That might have to change for a while."

"No, that's what I'm talking about. I want to be normal, like that. I need to be able to do my job without someone holding my hand every minute."

"You think you're ready for that? Being alone on the boat, maybe even at night?"

"I have to try." But his voice was shaking just a little and Nick took his hand again.

"We'll start slow. Make sure someone's home at night for the first few weeks."

"Yeah, at first," Murray agreed. "I'll be okay after a while."

"I know you will. You're falling asleep now, though."

"I know. Stay another minute, would you?"

Nick held his hand until he went to sleep. Then he went up to the salon to talk to Cody, leaving the reading light on in case Murray woke. It wouldn't really be normal until Murray could sleep with the lights off, but that was something else that no one said out loud.

***

"How's he doing?" Cody asked softly, not wanting to be overheard.

"Not bad, all things considered. He's really set on going home and getting back to normal. Let's go down to the galley. I need a beer."

"Is he thinking real normal, or that Brando image normal?"

Nick didn't answer until he'd opened his beer and had a quick drink.

"I sounded him out a little on that and I think he means real normal. If he's kidding himself at all, it's in thinking that it's going to happen faster than it is. Like, he thought we might start leaving him home alone right away."

"Really? Why would he think that?"

"I have no idea. He has a point though. We might have to sometimes and I don't like it."

"Yeah, I don't either." But Cody could see that it might happen. Being at home meant meeting expenses. They would have to work, and even if Murray was psychologically ready, which he wasn't, his broken body simply hadn't healed enough. "We'd have to ask someone to stay with him and he'd hate that. Being babysat by Dooley or one of the _Contessa _girls."

"Uh-huh. Or having Quinlan check in on him," Nick said dryly.

"This is going to be harder than I thought."

"It was never gonna be easy. But we can do it."

"Yeah," Cody said, trying to look optimistic. It didn't quite play and he dropped it quickly. "I keep thinking that everything the doctor said was—well—not wrong, but maybe just not right. You know, right for other people, but not for Murray. Like he'd just wake up one morning and be himself, you know? But that's not going to happen, is it? There's not going to be some magical event that just snaps him back to the way he was five weeks ago, is there?"

"No, man, there isn't. He's gonna get better real slow, like he has been, but he'll always be different."

"You sound like you agree with that shit he kept saying about being that guy. You know how hard it's been to talk him out of that, and now here you are, saying the same thing."

"No, I'm not. He's not that guy, Cody. He's still Murray. But he's a different Murray now. One that sleeps with the lights on and jumps whenever he hears footsteps. We can't pretend that's not true or we'll just end up hurting him all the time."

"Why does it have to be this hard?" Cody whispered, the closest he ever came to whining about the situation. But even now, he wasn't whining for himself. "Why can't loving him be enough?"

"It is. We just have to love him a lot, for a long time. Believe me, if this was an old TV show and he had amnesia from a bump on the head, I'd be the first one in line with a bat to fix him up. But this isn't _The Addams Family_. It's going to take time."

Cody nodded, reaching across the table for Nick's hand. This was what made it possible. They could take care of Murray because they were also taking care of each other. Neither could imagine how traditional couples got through these things.

"Do you think he's still asleep?"

"Probably. Those pills really knock him out." Nick knew what he was thinking and he wanted it, too. He got up, still holding Cody's hand, and pulled him to his feet, spinning him around and pushing him up against the sink. Cody grabbed Nick's ass and pulled him close, already hard and eager. He felt Nick's erection against his and arched into it, moaning helplessly. Nick held onto the edge of the sink with one hand and wrapped the other around Cody's hip, jerking him forward roughly to meet his thrusts. There was no time for foreplay, no time even to undress. There was only time for this. The kisses, the closeness, the final perfect release of the tensions they shared. It pulsed and flowed and finally dissipated, leaving them sweaty and trembling in each other's arms, but stronger for the loss.

Nick gathered himself and pulled away, stealing one more deep, sweet kiss. Cody sighed but let him go.

"He really is being a good sport about all this," Cody said, looking a little guilty.

"Yeah, Murray's a big man. And maybe when we get home he'll decide to extend his definition of normal to include joining in."

"I sure hope so. He's right here, but sometimes I miss him like we're miles apart."

"Me too. Come on, let's get cleaned up and go to bed. We've got a big day tomorrow."


	2. Twelve Hours of Castaways

Murray was back in his lounge chair on the fantail when the Coast Guard called in the next morning. He smiled at Captain Hart's banter and felt no anxiety when Cody got down to the business at hand.

"Coast Guard, status of crew and passengers is A-1-A, and we are preparing to return to King Harbor."

"Copy, _Riptide_. Status confirmed, ten forty-one hours. Will you be needing any assistance?"

"Only if you know something I don't. Over."

"That's a negative, _Riptide_. Seas are calm and the way is clear. But we're here to serve. Over."

"Thanks, Coast Guard. We appreciate the hospitality, and we'll be sure to recommend you to all our oceangoing fugitive friends. _Riptide_ over and out."

"It's been an honor serving the doctor. Good luck and godspeed. Coast Guard out."

Cody racked the mike and stepped out of the wheelhouse.

"People sure like you, Boz," he said, leaning over the rail.

"I don't know why. I cause them so much trouble."

"All the military loves a weapons designer. I'm going to fire her up in a minute. You okay to ride out here?"

"I'd like to. If I start to get nervous I can go in later, right?"

"Yeah, sure. You have your hat and your book?"

"I'm all set, Cody, don't worry." He gave his friend a snappy little salute and Cody went back to the wheelhouse with a smile. With smooth economy of motion, he flipped on the blowers, turned the key and pushed the throttle up gently. The engines roared to life and he throttled down a touch, letting them idle in neutral for a few minutes. Then he shifted into gear and nosed the bow up over the anchor, slacking the line before starting the winch. The tide was dropping, pulling the _Riptide_ out by the stern, and once the hook was free, he ran the throttle up and brought her around. Suddenly there was a breeze ruffling the pages of Murray's book and drying the sweat on his face. He leaned into it, holding his hat with one hand, already thinking about fresh pizza and cable TV.

"Hey, Murray," Nick said cheerfully, coming down from the wheelhouse. "Mind if I hang around here a while?"

"Still babysitting?" Murray asked, his eyes unreadable under his hat.

"I just want to sit in the sun. If you want to be alone, I'll go sit up in the bow."

"You're not subtle, Nick. Go on, sit there if you want. I'm just going to read."

Nick had a magazine, something with airplanes on the cover, and he flipped through it as if it absorbed him completely. But every time Murray looked up, he saw his friend watching him.

"Is there something on your mind?"

"A lot of things. But nothing we need to talk about right now," Nick said easily. Murray shrugged and picked up his book again.

***

Fifteen minutes out of port, Murray asked Nick to walk him inside. He wanted to get his first view of King Harbor through the salon windows, seeing without being seen. But when people started waving at the boat, he knew they all knew. Of course they did. The _Riptide_ had lived at Pier Fifty-six for years and it had just been gone for two weeks straight. Well, Murray knew how to hide from the world. He'd done it a thousand times without even meaning to.

His heart was beating too fast, but he smiled at Nick and held his peace. The note of the engines dropped and he felt a mild jar as the fenders hit the planks. Nick got up and went out to tie off the lines, leaving Murray to watch the harbor, waiting to see what would happen next. Cody came down from the wheelhouse, taking the long way through to the deck just so he could squeeze Murray's arm as he went by. They had to do the basic things, hooking up the phone and electric, but five minutes later, they were back and it was officially home.

"Now what?" Cody asked, feeling that he'd done his part.

"Lunch, maybe?" Murray suggested. "I have some stuff to do in the office but you could pick up a pizza."

"Yeah, and we need to do some laundry," Nick said. "I'm about one day away from having to wear Cody's stupid flower power shirt."

"No, you're not. I was going to wear it tomorrow. Okay, we'll get you settled down below and then Nick can go get the pizza while I gather up the laundry."

"And someone needs to go to the store."

"Yeah, we'll—uh—we'll get to that," Cody said, suddenly trapped. The most efficient thing would be for one of them to stay at the laundromat while the other went to the store, but they couldn't leave Murray alone the first day back.

"It's okay. No one's going to bother me in the middle of the afternoon," Murray said, reading his mind. He'd gotten good at that lately.

"Well, no, not bother you exactly," Cody said slowly. "But someone might come by and you won't be able to get up here to see who it is."

Murray was trying to come up with an answer that would give them permission to go when someone leapt onto the deck and called ahoy. Cody went to the door to let Dooley in, already hating himself for what he was about to do.

"Hey, Dooley, how's it going?"

"You know, rockin' and rollin'. I saw you guys come in and I wanted to be the first to say welcome home. You know, ask if I can help with anything. How you doing, Boz?"

"Good," Murray said, smiling bravely. "And there _is_ something you can do for me, if you want."

"Anything at all, just say the word. Your wish is my command, and all that jazz."

"Thank you. I'm trying to send Nick and Cody out to take care of some business, but they're worried about me. Think you can hang around for a while, in case someone comes by, or I need to go up or down the stairs? Probably all you'll have to do is watch TV until they get back."

"I can totally handle that. There's a _Gilligan's Island_ marathon on TBS. Twelve hours of castaways, little buddy."

"Good," Murray said, as if that was exactly how he wanted to spend the afternoon. "Now you guys are free to do whatever it is you need to do, confident that I will be well looked after."

"All right," Nick said reluctantly. "I'll make you a sandwich for now, and we'll bring back pizza for supper. You want to stay here or go below?"

"Below, please. I really need to get to work."

Nick didn't agree with that, but he was glad of the opportunity to get Murray away so Cody could have a few words with Dooley. Cody didn't resent it, having escaped being the one to ask the favor in the first place. He made a mental note to thank Murray for that later, and guided Dooley out onto the fantail for maximum privacy.

"This isn't a small matter," was the first thing he said. "You read the paper, you know what he's been through."

"Yeah, man, I know. It's just about all anyone's been talking about since you've been gone. That's kind of why I came over. I know I'm not your favorite person or anything, but I really care about the Boz and—well—there's gonna be a crowd tonight or tomorrow. Everyone wants to get a look at him, you know?"

"Oh, shit," Cody sighed. "All right, there's nothing we can do about that. It's a neighborhood, people are going to come if they want to. But Murray's going to stay below, and you're going to get rid of everyone as quick as you can. There aren't that many people he'd want to see, and you know them all. Mama Jo, Straightaway, people like that. Although they'll probably have better sense than to show up the first day. Quinlan might, and if he does, don't you give him a hard time. Take him to Murray and leave them alone, okay?"

"Lieutenant Quinlan? You want to leave them alone together?"

"Yeah, I know it sounds wrong, but it's okay. Just keep people from bothering him. And don't let them stand around here and gossip. He hears everything. Maybe even this, I don't know."

"Yeah, I get it. But what should I do when no one's around? Should I keep him company or leave him alone?"

"Ask Murray what he wants. And, Dooley, whatever he says, you do it. Don't go bullshitting around like this is some kind of game, because it isn't."

"I know, Cody. You can count on me."

"I hope so. Here, take this," he went on, drawing a small, flat box from his pocket. "There are two pills in there. Give him one in an hour, or both, if he asks."

"You guys don't let him handle his own pills?" Dooley asked, turning the box between his fingers like a worry stone.

"No," Cody said shortly. "And I have the bottle, so there won't be any sense in looking for more."

"Okay." He looked at the deck for a moment, then at the sky, and finally dragged his eyes back to Cody's face.

"Should I, like, keep an eye on him? I mean, even if he doesn't have pills…is it, like, dangerous?"

"I don't think so. But it'd be good if you could hang close. Don't irritate him into banishing you if you can possibly help it."

Dooley managed not to get offended and shoved the little box into his pocket. It was maybe the most responsible job he'd ever been given, and he was just smart enough to realize it.

"Yeah, no, I can be cool. We'll be fine, Cody, don't worry."

Cody smiled thinly, not bothering to mention that he hadn't done anything else for the last month.

"All right, come on."

They went back inside, through the salon and down to the galley, where they could hear Nick and Murray talking quietly in the stateroom. It sounded like an intense but civil discussion, and Cody made enough noise to let them know he was there before going in. Murray was at his computer, looking calm and collected in spite of Nick leaning over his shoulder like a kindergarten teacher correcting a small child's grip on a fat pencil.

"Everything okay?" Cody asked. Murray smiled at him and Nick didn't, which wasn't great, but was better than the other way around.

"Everything's fine," Nick said tightly. "We were just discussing how Murray's going to get his meds in an hour."

"Oh, no problemo," Dooley said. "I got it right here. You guys don't have to worry about a thing."

Murray's calm expression flickered a little, stabilizing so quickly that only Cody saw it. But he kept smiling, and when he spoke his voice was steady.

"Then everything's settled. Go on, guys, I'm fine. Do laundry and bring back some real food. And don't forget the strawberries for my cereal."

"Right, strawberries," Cody said, ignoring Nick's withering stare. "Anything else?"

"Just the usual, you know. Nick, stop looking like that and just go already. You know you will, and if you keep putting it off, you'll just get back that much later."

"Yeah, all right." There was no arguing with that, and they wanted to be home before dark. Nick kissed him on the cheek and Murray curled one arm gently around his neck, wincing at the pull in his ribs. Dooley grinned at them, knowing he was in on a secret, and said nothing. When Nick stepped away, Cody took his place and got a quick kiss for himself.

"Dooley's promised to be good," he whispered. "Let him help you, okay?"

"If there's anything he can do," Murray said. "Now go on, before it gets late."

They left with many a regretful backward glance, like parents leaving their child at kindergarten for the first time. Murray wished those comparisons would stop occurring to him.

"Have a seat, Dooley. Has there been anything interesting going on around here?"

"No, not really. Oh, a couple days ago Quinlan was down here busting up a totally bitchin' party on the _Walter Reed_ and this really big guy threw him overboard. Dude, you shoulda seen it."

Murray knew how unpleasant it was being thrown in the harbor, and he had nothing but gratitude for Quinlan at the moment, but the mental image still made him laugh.

"I wish I had. When did the _Walter Reed_ get in? I've never seen it before."

"About a week ago. Weird name for a boat, though isn't it?"

"I guess so." He was trying to remember if the Navy had a ship by that name and then Dooley was speaking again.

"I mean, naming a boat after the dad on _The Brady Bunch_? That's just weird."

"That was Robert Reed. Walter Reed is a military hospital in DC. It's named for an Army surgeon. So I wonder if the guy who owns this boat is military or medical or maybe a relative of the doctor. That would be really interesting."

"You could go meet him. I was at the party the whole three days and he was real nice. His name's Doug, I think."

"You spent three days on his boat and you're not sure about his name? It must have been a good party. What else is going on? How's Mama Jo?"

"She's okay. She came down and asked about you a couple of times. I'm supposed to call her when you get back. I was gonna, but then I thought maybe I better wait and ask you first."

"Really? Thanks, Dooley. To be honest, we were kind of worried that maybe people wouldn't think of things like that. Like asking before they talked about me." He flushed faintly pink but didn't lower his eyes. Dooley moved his chair a little closer, as if afraid of being overheard.

"People _are_ talking about you, but not your friends. Not me or Mama Jo, or even Quinlan. The people talking are the ones who just read about you in the paper, they don't know you."

"That's—I'm glad," he said, oddly touched.

"Yeah, in fact, last week Quinlan beat up this guy at _The Lobster Pot_ because he was talking some shit."

"You're kidding."

"No way, man. Scout's honor. I saw it myself. It was kind of my fault, I guess. I asked Quinlan if he'd heard from you and he was saying he'd gotten an A-1-A from the CG that morning, and this guy at the bar said something. I don't even remember what, just that it wasn't too cool, and Quinlan stood up and laid him out flat. It only took a couple seconds, but they had to call an ambulance and everything."

"Really? Quinlan laid out a civilian in a bar because he, what, called me a fag?"

"Something like that." Actually, the guy had said that someone ought to finish the job, but Murray didn't press for specifics and Dooley didn't offer any.

"I'll have to tease him unmercifully the next chance I get."

"I hope I get to see that, too. But, you know, Boz, nobody around here really thinks you're queer."

"Really?" he said again. That was even harder to believe.

"Well, you guys are kind of—I don't know what. Flaky, maybe. But it's just you, you know?"

"Actually, I'm not quite sure I do. What does that mean, just me?"

"Not you, Boz, all of you. You're, like, allowed to get away with stuff because it's you guys and people like you. Most people, anyway. We figure you just are the way you are, like a family. Like, in my old neighborhood, people were always saying, 'those Dooleys are just crazy', stuff like that. The Barbers were farmers and the Yarboroughs were artists. You're 'those _Riptide_ guys', that's all."

"And 'those _Riptide_ guys' are queer, but it's okay?"

"Well, yeah. 'Cause, like, you're great guys. You work hard, you take care of your boat, you're totally upstanding citizens."

"Thanks, Dooley. That actually makes me feel a little better."

"Cool. Hey, can I get you anything? You're not supposed to move around a lot, right?"

"Right. I guess I could use a glass of water. We probably don't have any more ice."

"I'll check it out."

As soon as he was gone, Murray took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. He wanted to lie down, but the old cot was too uncomfortable still, and there were too many stairs between here and bed with just Dooley to lean on. But maybe Dooley could be leaned on. He was already doing better than Murray expected. He'd only asked Dooley to stay so that the guys wouldn't have to, with no idea of doing anything but enduring him for as long as it took.

"You okay, man?"

He sat up quickly, put on his glasses and tried to smile.

"Yes, I'm fine. Oh, there was ice. Good. Thank you." Murray took the icy glass and drank half of it without thinking. An iron spike drilled through the middle of his forehead and he closed his eyes against it.

"Too cold?"

"No, it's fine," he lied, fighting to keep from rubbing his forehead. "How long have the guys been gone?"

"About ten minutes. I heard 'em leave while we were talking. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." But all of a sudden he wasn't. "Dooley, grab that trash can for me, please?"

Mystified, he handed Murray the plastic wastepaper basket, expecting him to sift through it for something accidentally thrown away. Instead, he held it in his lap and vomited up most of a sandwich and a great quantity of water. Dooley stood back, eyes wide with horror, until Murray set the trashcan on the floor and laid his head on the desk, holding his ribs weakly.

"Should—should I get—someone?" he asked hesitantly.

"No," Murray whispered. "Just give me a minute." The cabin was silent as he sat there, taking shallow breaths, while Dooley watched. Nearly two minutes passed before Murray sat up and reached for the glass again. His hand was shaking and water spilled down his neck as he tried to sip it. He rinsed his mouth without swallowing and spit into the trashcan.

"Dooley, were you serious about helping me out? Because if you've forgotten an important dental appointment or something, this is the time to say so."

"No, I was totally serious, dude. Anything you need." But he desperately hoped it wasn't going to be taking out the trash.

"Go into the galley and get me some saltines. Five or six, okay? I think they're in the cupboard by the stove."

"Sure, no problem." He brought the crackers and Murray ate them, nibbling slowly around the edges, while Dooley went back for more water. This time he sipped it slowly and put it aside after drinking less than a quarter.

"It's okay, Kirk. It's just the medication and the stress and—I don't know. But it's okay. I just need to lie down. Can you help me get to bed?"

"Sure. Sure, just tell me how." He moved closer and Murray slid to the edge of his chair.

"Put your hand under my elbow, like I'm your grandpa or something. Lift real slow, okay?" He couldn't help wincing and Dooley froze, terrified of hurting him. "No, it's all right. It's going to hurt," he said, and finally straightened up.

"What else?"

"Just let me lean on you." He put his arm around Dooley's shoulders, smiling at his concern.

"Where do I put my hand? Will this hurt?"

"Lower."

Dooley dropped his hand to the small of Murray's back, below his hurt ribs and tender bruises.

"Thanks. Just go slow now, okay? And if I trip going up the stairs, try to let me down easy. Whatever you do, don't try to hold me up."

"What if you trip going _down_ the stairs?"

"See if you can make me fall backward. Otherwise, you'll have to go for help."

"I'll be careful," Dooley said, trying to smile. They made it through the galley and up the stairs before Murray asked to rest. He leaned against the table because it was easier than sitting and having to stand up again, and Dooley stayed close, still holding him loosely. It was the kind of thing Murray expected people to stop doing after the stories in the paper, and though Dooley had never been his best friend, he was touched. After a minute, he was ready to continue and they moved carefully down the aft stairs. He asked for a minute in the head and Dooley, uncertain what his role here was, waited outside.

Murray looked pale when he came out and Dooley didn't ask if he was okay. In the cabin, Murray sat down on the bed and took off his flannel shirt. His t-shirt was wet, too, but he couldn't pull it over his head. He was wondering if he could ask Dooley to do something like that and not coming up with a satisfactory answer when the younger man solved the problem.

"Can't stretch that much, huh?" he said, reaching around and rolling the shirt up from the back. "I busted a bunch of ribs a couple years ago and my brother had to do all this stuff for me. He gave me so much crap, it took me six months to get even. I finally had to crack his surfboard." By the time he'd finished speaking, he had Murray's shirt off and was laying him down, pretending not to see the scars. But he did, and they went a long way toward darkening his normally sunny worldview. "Hey, let me get your shoes off. There you go, Boz. You want the blankets?"

"Please. Thanks a lot, Kirk. I really appreciate this."

"No problemo, really. After all the stuff you guys have done for me, I owe you more than this."

"Don't let me be the payment of a debt."

"No, I didn't mean that. You're my friend; I'm here for you."

"So how much longer until you hand over that pill?"

"Twenty minutes. Hurts pretty bad, doesn't it?"

"Yeah." He put his glasses on the nightstand and closed his eyes. "You're probably not going to give them up early, are you?"

"I don't think I'm supposed to. But that's not right, is it? You're a grown man, a scientist and all that, I shouldn't be in charge of you. If you want the pills, you can have them."

"What about Nick and Cody? They'll never trust you again."

"I won't tell if you don't," he grinned and Murray realized he'd been wrong. Dooley was his friend after all.

He brought a fresh glass of water and gave Murray the pills. It was only twenty minutes, after all, and Dooley could remember how bad broken ribs hurt. He didn't even want to think about the rest of it. Then they heard someone on deck and Murray sent him to check it out. When Dooley didn't come back, he went to sleep.

***

"How'd it go?" Cody asked as soon as he stepped through the door. He had two baskets of laundry in his arms and Nick had one with two pizza boxes balanced on top.

"It was okay. He's been sleeping for a while. Let me get that." He took the baskets and put them down in a corner of the salon.

"He's not sleeping in his chair again, is he?" Nick asked, ready to be mad.

"No way, man. He's all tucked into bed, safe and sound. I was a good little helper. Hey, you got more stuff in the car?"

"Yeah, tons," Cody said, seeing that Nick was going to yell. "Help me bring it in, would you? Nick, you want to check on Murray?"

"On my way." Nick slid the pizzas onto the table, dropped the laundry next to the other baskets, and headed down.

"So what happened?" Cody asked when they were on the gangway. "Did anyone come by?"

"Yeah, a bunch of people. Thing is, he got sick. Right after you left, when we were still in the office, he totally puked his guts. It was brutal. He went to bed after that, and I didn't let anyone see him."

"Good, thanks. Who was here?"

"Bunch of people. I didn't know most of them. Couple of guys from some genius group and some girls from the college. And some of the neighbors, you know. Just people. But no one he'd want to see. He's still pretty messed up, you know?"

"Yeah, he is. It sounds like you did everything right, though. Did he take the pills?"

"Uh-huh." Dooley started gathering up grocery bags without elaborating. Cody thought there was more to it but he didn't ask. He was thinking the same thing Dooley had, that Murray was entitled to a little leeway, that he was still a man and had some rights. But he had to bite his tongue all the way back to the boat anyway.


	3. How He Talks About it Now

Murray got up for supper and listened with interest to the news from town. Nick had heard a lot of talk at the laundromat, and Cody ran into a few acquaintances at the grocery store. They brought back stories about Ben Johnson fighting at _The Lobster Pot_, and the break-in on John Gardener's boat. Sue Trumbley's dog, Strider, cornered the thief on her boat the next night, and he was actually glad to go with the police when they arrived. Murray was the only person on the pier that Strider liked and he failed, as always, to understand why the intruder should have been so scared.

"He's such a good dog," he said, shaking his head over his pizza.

"Well, sure, he's never bitten _you_," Nick shrugged. "And I saw Quinlan. I think someone must have told him where to find me, because he didn't bring any laundry."

"I kind of expected him to be over here but Dooley said he wasn't," Murray said.

"I'd have told you, Boz," Dooley put in. "Cody said I was supposed to let you see him."

"Yeah, well, he said he didn't want to bother you," Nick interrupted. "But he wanted you to know that Russell Todd tried to escape again. He had a couple guys at the jail to bust him out during his transfer to the state prison."

"He—he's out?" Murray whispered, suddenly feeling faint. His eyes were wide, his face dead white, and Nick realized he'd said the wrong thing first.

"No. No, God, no. He's dead, Murray. The cops got onto it, but not in time to stop them from trying. There was a shootout right in front of the police station and Quinlan killed him."

"He—Qui—Quinlan?" Murray stammered, trying to understand. "Todd's dead? When did—when—how long ago?"

"About a week. He didn't send a message because—well, I think he thought we wouldn't believe it coming from strangers over the radio. And for once, he might have been right. He gave me some newspapers in case we wanted proof." He paused, sipped a little beer, and said, very gently, "Would you like to read them?"

"Not tonight. But I will." His glassy eyed stare searched his friends' faces, then Dooley's, and returned to Nick. "Is this supposed to make a difference?" he whispered. "Am I supposed to feel better now?"

"I don't know. I hope you feel a little safer. But I don't think anyone expected it to just fix everything." Although Nick and Cody had, in a small, secret way, been hoping for just that.

Murray nodded, toying with his food. The mood became rather oppressive and Dooley excused himself a few minutes later, saying he'd come back tomorrow. Murray roused enough to thank him, and his expression was so sincere that it surprised Nick and Cody.

"You guys must have had a good day," Cody said, when the kid was gone.

"It was all right. He can be a good guy when he wants to." He pushed his plate away and drank some more water. He wanted beer but it didn't mix with his meds. "I'd like to go to bed soon, if that's okay."

"Sure, anytime you want," Cody said, too quickly. Murray pushed back his chair and Cody got up to help him. There was something oddly defeated in the skinny man's attitude, something that hadn't been there for the last few days. They went downstairs and Murray stepped into the head, closing the door firmly against his friend. He was in there for a long time and when he came out, Nick and Cody were both waiting in the stateroom.

"Is everyone going to bed early?" he asked dryly.

"Murray, is this another one of those letdown things? Like when the DA cut the deal and you got all depressed?" Nick asked in return.

"I'm not depressed, I'm—numb. It doesn't matter anymore. It's all over now." He started unbuttoning his shirt and they stood back, waiting to be asked for help.

"Shouldn't you be _happy_ that it's over?"

"I don't know. I'm trying not to worry too much about what I should be feeling." It was a hot night, August in California all the way, and he got into bed in a t-shirt and boxers. "You don't have to worry, Nick. I promised, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember. And I believe you. But you not hurting yourself doesn't comfort me much if you're wanting to and just not doing it because you promised."

"Well, it's all the comfort you're going to get tonight. I'm sorry, guys, I really am. I just don't have anything else to give you right now."

"Okay, so don't give us anything," Cody said. "Let us give you something. What do you need?"

"I don't know. Time, I guess. Sleep."

Nick undressed and climbed into bed beside him. He touched Murray's cheek softly, let his fingers trail down the vulnerable throat and across scarred collarbones. Murray trembled and then Cody's hand was on his chest.

"No," he said softly.

"No what, Boz? You don't want us touching you?" Cody asked.

"I don't want to go where you're taking me." He kept his eyes closed as if that would make him stronger, better able to resist what they were offering.

"Why not?" Nick asked. He'd been waiting a long time to have this conversation.

"I don't know. It was good before, I don't regret that, but—I don't know if I can be a lover." It sounded like an incomplete sentence and Nick looked to Cody for help. Was he going to say _right now_, or maybe _anymore_? Cody met Nick's eyes and repeated the question.

"Why not?"

Murray looked at him then, his thick glasses magnifying his eyes into those of a lost beagle.

"Are you kidding?"

"No. I want to know what's in your heart, Murray. I want to understand why you're still pushing us away."

He took off his glasses and his eyes returned to normal. Now they were just those of a lost scientist.

"I don't know if I can enjoy it," he whispered. "And if I can't, I don't want to experience that with you."

"But you know that we'd stop if you wanted to."

"It doesn't matter. By the time I said it, by the time I knew it, the damage would be done. If I were ever afraid of you guys, I wouldn't have anyone else to turn to. It's too big a risk."

"Okay," Nick said, taking over from Cody. "So how do you see the future? Do you want to just be celibate the rest of your life? Sleep with us and never be touched?"

"That doesn't seem fair," Murray said thoughtfully, and they took hope. Then he spoke again and the small hope was immediately dashed. "I need to be with you for a while longer, but when I get well, I'll move out."

"What? No, that's not…"

"What are you talking about?" Cody interrupted.

"It's not fair. I'm in the way, keeping you guys from being together. I mean, just because I don't want to, doesn't mean you shouldn't."

"But we don't want you to go anywhere," Nick said, almost harshly.

"I—I didn't mean I'd leave altogether. I'll just go back to my room and things can be like they were before. That would be okay, wouldn't it? You wouldn't hate me, would you?" The lost eyes were pleading and Cody squeezed his hand.

"No. No, baby, we wouldn't hate you. But I don't want you to go. Don't you think that, if you just gave it a little more time, you might change your mind?"

"Yeah, he's right," Nick said eagerly. "It'll just be a little longer is all."

"But in the meantime it's not fair to you."

"We're not missing out on that much. Honestly, we're going at it every time you fall asleep, aren't we Cody?"

"Just about. The only thing we're missing is you. We want more of you, not less."

"But what if I can't give you that? How long can I keep sleeping between you without giving it up?"

No one wanted to ask exactly what he meant by _giving it up_ and there was a silence while they regrouped. Inevitably, it was Nick who spoke first.

"Let's not decide right now, okay? You can't be alone for a while anyway. We'll figure it out."

Murray drew the deepest sigh he could and let it out slowly.

"Maybe it is that letdown again. I've been trying all this time not to think about Todd and his goons, but when I do, I imagine them being raped and murdered in prison. Sometimes I dream about it, and the dreams should be nightmares because they're so awful, but they're not. It's okay because it's happening to them. Anyone else and I'd be horrified, you know?"

They nodded and he went on.

"I never really thought it would happen, though. Or asked myself how I'd really feel if it did. I never let myself think about him really being dead. Now he is, apparently, and I just don't know how to feel about it. I'd hate myself if I were really happy about the death of another human being, but if I were going to make an exception, it would be for Russell Todd." His voice was strong and steady, unmarred by a single quaver, but his eyes were over-bright and a little frightening.

"I think that's okay," Cody said slowly. "I mean, that's kind of how I feel."

"Really? Like you want to be glad but you shouldn't be?"

"Well, more like I _am_ glad, but maybe I shouldn't be."

"I don't feel like that," Nick said, shaking his head. "I'm just glad."

Murray stared at him for a few seconds and then burst out laughing. It hurt his ribs and he curled in on himself, trying to hold them steady, suffocating on repressed hysteria. Cody knelt beside the bed, lifting Murray's head onto his shoulder, turning him a little so he could curl better, and held him as his laughter dissolved into tears. Nick lay down along the line of Murray's back and felt him stiffen as if to pull away. But he had nowhere to go.

They held him until he stopped crying, gave him tissues to blow his nose, and then Nick asked if felt any better. Or at least different.

"Different from what?"

"From how you felt fifteen minutes ago. Or from how you felt two weeks ago when you were—let down."

"I think so. I don't know. Does it matter?"

"Yeah, Murray, it matters a lot," Cody said, almost shouting. He regretted it when he saw his friend flinch, and kissed his forehead in appeasement. "I'm sorry. But it does matter. It's how we know you're getting better."

"I am," Murray whispered. "Different and better, both. But I don't think I'm good enough. Can I have my pills now? My ribs are killing me."

Nick got up so Cody wouldn't have to break the embrace and fished the bottle out of his pocket. There was a glass of warm, flat water on the nightstand and Murray said it was fine. He took the pills and let Cody hold him until he went to sleep. But his sleep was marred by evil dreams and no one rested well that night.

***

Murray was bent over the table at an awkward angle, his back to the door, tightening a screw in the Roboz's monitor. The ache in his chest was mild compared to the joy of being at work again, safely moored and attached to reasonably reliable phone and electric lines. Most of the bad things slipped his mind while he worked and he kept clear of the drugs so long as he could stand to, so long as there was something good to occupy his mind. Like installing a new processor in the Roboz. That felt good, and he wasn't thinking about anything else.

He was humming a little song, a silly thing he'd heard on the radio that was, so far as he could tell, a semi-serious philosophical pondering about the possibility of loving an angel. _I hear they have a space program, when you sing you can't hear, there's no air…_ Then a hand landed on his shoulder and he shot up, screaming. The screwdriver went flying, which was a good thing, because otherwise he might have skewered Cody when he spun around.

"Murray, calm down," Cody said, his own heart pounding in his ears. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you?" Murray gasped, trying to get hold of the table before his trembling legs spilled him on the floor. Cody tried to catch him, saw him wince when he touched tender ribs, and dropped his hands to Murray's hips.

"Hang on, don't fall down," he said, pressing the shaking man up against the table.

"Asshole," Murray hissed, still trying to catch his breath. "What if I'd had a gun?"

"Then I wouldn't be so embarrassed right now." Cody was trying to lighten the mood but the words were too serious for him to have much success. "Do you usually have a gun in here?"

Murray nodded, letting his head fall to Cody's shoulder.

"In the desk," he murmured. "I thought I could put it away after Todd died, but I can't."

"That's okay, we've only been home a week. And I'd be telling you that even if you'd shot me. I didn't mean to sneak up on you, Boz. I was listening to you humming, trying to place the song, and then I thought I'd ask. It just didn't occur to me that you didn't know I was there. It was my fault, I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay," Murray said, but he was still shaking and Cody could feel his heart pounding against his chest. Without thinking, he nudged Murray's temple with his nose, made him raise his head, then kissed him with the kind of intensity and thoroughness that had been missing ever since Murray stopped hoarding his pills. His fingers dug into Murray's hips, holding him close, and after a long moment, the trembling arms eased hesitantly around Cody's waist. Both of them were getting hard and Cody slipped his right hand between them, cupping Murray through his jeans. He moaned softly against Cody's mouth but didn't pull away. Gradually, he began to press into the strong, welcoming hand, rubbing crotches like two teenagers afraid of going all the way for real. But there was nothing fearful about Murray's hungry participation in the kiss.

Cody lifted him onto the edge of the table and began unbuckling Murray's belt without breaking the kiss. He moved slowly until Murray shifted his hips, making it a little easier to open his fly. Cody freed his half-erect member and squeezed gently, a long, tugging stroke that made Murray whimper, even as he leaned in for more. Cody dropped his shorts and wrapped his hand around them both, pulling Murray's cock up tight against his own belly for more friction. He was trying to be gentle, watching for any sign that it was on the brink of being too much, but Murray's response was too familiar for him to really be worried.

The hesitancy was gone in no time, the two of them reduced to grinding and groping, panting into each other's mouths. Murray shook his jeans off and wrapped his legs around Cody's hips, struggling to get closer, moaning a continuous sound of pain and pleasure. As careful as Cody could be, it wasn't enough, and the stabs from his ribs were exquisite torture. Murray came quickly, biting Cody's lips and trying not to scream. Cody didn't last much longer, but he did manage not to push Murray down on the table and ravage him the way he once might have, and wanted to now. He kept it down to the minimum required, and his hoarse shouts brought only Nick in to see what was happening, instead of the whole pier.

Murray pulled himself together hastily, looking guilty and a little afraid. Cody just looked happy.

"Did he sneak up on you, Boz?" Nick asked, his tone just a little bit flirty.

"As a matter of fact, he did. Scared me half to death."

"Looks like he made it up to you all right, though." Nick moved closer, cupped Murray's cheek in his palm and kissed him softly. For a second it seemed to work. Murray leaned into him just a little and the kiss deepened. Then he was pulling back, trying to escape, and Nick had no choice but to let him go.

"Murray, what…?"

"No. Just—no." He slid off the table and made it out to the galley before either man could catch him. Nick started to follow and Cody held him back.

"What if he leaves?" Nick hissed in a whisper.

"He won't leave the boat, he doesn't have any shoes on. What were you thinking, coming on to him like that?"

"I always do that. He knows how much I like it when he's all sweaty and messed up."

"Yeah, and he knows you usually fuck him. Jeez, Nick, think about it. Even if it wasn't for that, we can't act like we're—I don't know—taking turns on him."

Which was also what they always did, but no one had ever seen it quite like that before. Murray had always liked going from one to the other, or taking them both on at once, and they'd assumed that when this trauma was passed, he would again. Nick wondered if there'd ever been a real chance of that happening, and if he'd just screwed it up if there was.

"Yeah, you're right. Now let me go, before this gets any worse."

Cody released him, his fingers loosening reluctantly. He wanted Murray to come back on his own, but Nick couldn't wait. He ran into the galley, found it empty and hurried up the stairs. Murray wasn't in the salon, either, and Nick fought back the urge to shout for him. He went to the window, checking the pier and the access road, before a rustle in the stern cabin caught his attention.

"Hey," he said casually, leaning on the doorframe while Murray struggled into clean pants. "You got down the stairs by yourself. Good job."

"Adrenaline rush, I guess."

"Yeah, maybe. Look, Murray, I'm sorry about that just now. I wasn't thinking, it was just—instinct. I always like it when you're sweaty and flustered, you know."

"I know." He buckled his belt and sat down on the bed. "It's not you, it's me. I'm the one who's different. That should have turned into an hour long orgy in there, but I freaked out. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, Boz. Can I come in?"

"It's your room, too."

"And you can tell me to stay out anyway."

"But I won't. I just don't know what else there is to say."

"There's a lot to say. Murray, whatever you and Cody did, it's a good thing. It's progress, and I hope you appreciate that." He sat down and laid his arm gently across the hunched shoulders. "I shouldn't have intruded, that's all."

"You weren't intruding. You were doing what we always do. I'm the one who's wrong, not you."

"That's the only thing you're wrong about. You get to make the rules. If you don't want threesomes, if you don't want sex, if you just don't want me—it's all up to you."

"Wait, no." Murray pulled back, startled, and this time it was his hand on Nick's cheek, turning his head to meet worried eyes. "Don't ever think it's you. I—Cody surprised me. My defenses were down and suddenly he was making me feel—safe. It would have been the same if it had been you."

"Then why did you run away?"

Murray's hand trembled, sliding back into Nick's hair and holding on.

"Because I felt detached. Like the two of you were on one side and I was on the other. Like you might be—I don't know…I can't say what I'm feeling anymore."

"You felt like we were plotting, didn't you? Like we'd be able to stand there and talk about you."

"Well, you do. You used to tie me up and talk about me."

"You used to like it. If you don't, we won't do it anymore. And if it would be easier for you to get back into it one on one, just say so."

"But that's not how we do things. You and Cody do everything together. You slept with each other for years before you slept with me, and you always did that together, too. I can't split you up now."

"You wouldn't split us up," Nick said, almost giddy with relief. Could it really be this simple? "Murray, there's no reason we can't pair off sometimes. We didn't start out that way because there didn't seem to be any need for it. You wanted us both and we wanted you; it was that simple. It's not so simple now and that's—well—it sucks, but it's okay."

"For a change, he's right," Cody said from the doorway. "It never occurred to us that you wouldn't want an audience for a while, but it makes sense. Give us another chance, huh?"

"Are you serious?" Murray asked, tearing his eyes away from Nick's to check Cody's expression.

"Are you kidding?" Cody asked in return, and for a moment everyone was confused.

"I mean it. Are you seriously saying that you would wait outside while Nick and I…You wouldn't be—jealous?"

"Of you? No, Boz. You've been together when I was gone, haven't you? And I know we've had plenty of sex when Nick was off at camp or something. It's no different."

"It's different when one of you is up on deck, waiting."

"Well, that's our problem. Remember when you were in the hospital? One of us was always there, and there wasn't any jealousy."

"There wasn't any sex, either. And it was a finite timeframe. You knew roughly when it would end. I can't say that this time. It might go on forever."

Nick and Cody exchanged a glance that Murray saw but couldn't read. It had been a long time since that happened and he was suddenly scared.

"That's all right," Nick said, drawing Murray's eyes back to his face. "We can be a threesome, two at a time, if that's what you want. I won't try to join in if you're with Cody, and he'll give us the same latitude. Won't you, Cody?"

"Sure, of course. But, Murray, if you change your mind, you can join us anytime."

Murray couldn't help laughing, breaking the tension at last. He laid his head on Nick's shoulder and closed his eyes.

"You're not going to give up, are you?" he asked and they answered as one.

"Not a chance."

***

That night Murray said he wanted a shower after supper and asked Nick for help. Whether it was because he wanted Nick, or because he thought it would be more fair somehow, would ever be a mystery. All that was completely clear was that he wanted more than a shower, and Nick was willing to give it to him.

For the first time since his abduction, Murray seemed to be comfortable naked. Almost playful, as he let Nick wash his hair and work down his back. He put his hands on the wall in a gesture that had always been an invitation before, but probably wasn't now. Nick couldn't quite tell and decided not to risk it. He risked something else instead.

Trailing his fingers across Murray's back, he kissed the slender neck and whispered, "What made these scars, sweetheart?"

"Something leather," he sighed, shoulders slumping as if a great weight had just been settled on him, or perhaps removed. Nick couldn't tell that, either. "A riding crop, maybe. It was thin, but sharp, with a metal tip."

Gentle fingers slid around his ribs, tickling lightly, following the scars. This was how he talked about it now, answering one question every two or three days and refusing to speak altogether if they pressed for more.

"Turn around, Murray."

He obeyed without question and Nick put both hands on his shoulders, drawing him closer. A little of the playfulness returned and Murray sank eagerly into the kiss. Nick hugged him against his chest, letting Murray dictate the pressure on his ribs but making sure their wet skin met in all the important places. He was surprised when the weight in his arms increased, that Murray could stand that much, but the injured man didn't seem to be in pain. His hands went to Murray's hips, fingers digging into the lean meat of his ass, and held on hard. Murray braced his hands on the wall and took charge, plundering Nick's mouth, hips grinding, cocks pressed together with exquisite force. This time Nick was the one vulnerable and desperate, bucking against the thin body in his arms. He was coming before he wanted to, helpless to stop it, groaning in time with the pulse of his orgasm.

Murray kept up the pressure, rocking and thrusting, sucking Nick's tongue until the other man suddenly pulled away, dropping to his knees before Murray could stop him. Murray's hands dug into his slick black hair and then Nick's mouth was enveloping him, making him grab at the wall again. It was heavenly, all strong suction and swirling tongue, creating sensations that Murray had feared he would never enjoy again. Arms trembling, head bowed, he watched himself thrust into the welcoming mouth and the beauty of Nick's face was his undoing.

"Nick," he whispered raggedly, and the blue eyes turned up to him. "Nick, oh _fuck_." His world exploded in ecstasy as Nick swallowed him down. The next thing Murray knew, he was on the floor.

"You okay, babe?" Nick's voice, from a long way away. Nick's arms around him, holding him up.

"Wonderful. A little weak in the knees, maybe. Nick, thank you. Not for that," he added when his friend tried to protest. "I mean for everything."

"I don't want to be thanked for anything, Murray. I love you, that's all."

"I guess I'm not allowed to thank you for that, either." A shake of the head confirmed it and Murray laughed. "Well, you know I love you, too. I can say _that_, anyway."

"Yeah, you can say that as often as you want." Nick kissed him, slow and sweet, tasting the juicy berry flavor that was uniquely Murray. At this rate he'd be hard again in a few minutes but the hot water was nearly gone. Reluctantly, Nick broke the kiss and stood up, lifting Murray with him, steadying him with a hand on his arm until the trembling subsided. Nick turned off the water and reached for the towels on the bar outside. He tried to wrap Murray in one and that broke the last of the near paralysis.

"I can do it, Nick. I'm a big boy," he grinned, not sounding at all put out.

"Okay, sorry. But I'm never going to stop taking care of you."

"I _will_ thank you for that." Murray rubbed himself briskly with the towel, then hung it up and walked naked to the stateroom. Nick was surprised at the sudden change in demeanor, but when he thought about it, it made a little sense. Murray had been with both of them in private, had seen how they reacted to him when no one was watching, and now he had their word that he was safe from double teaming. So it was a more relaxed Murray who put on his pajamas and went up to the salon to watch the evening movie with his friends.


	4. Sadly Beautiful

"Boz, I'm telling you, you need more than an orange to get through the day."

"Oh, I know that, Cody." He was distracted, barely looking up from the monitor and not quite sure what the problem was.

"So come have lunch. Nick's reheating the lasagna from last night."

"What was that?" Not looking up at all this time, vaguely hearing something about last night. He'd been up late working after they went to bed. Maybe that was it. "I'll go to bed early tonight, I promise."

"Murray, pay attention. I'm talking about lunch. Food. You know, eating?"

"Oh, is there lunch?"

"Is this what happens when your bones heal? You lose your mind?"

"You're the one who promised Melanie Valentine we'd find her brother by the end of the week. Now do you want me to do it or not?"

"I want you to eat lunch with us. Come on, Nick's waiting."

Murray pushed his keyboard away with a sigh, as if a lunch break were one of those horrors specifically forbidden under the Geneva Convention, but nonetheless routinely used to break enemies in undeveloped nations. He braced himself with one hand on the desk and stood up before Cody could reach him to help. They'd been back in King Harbor for two weeks and Murray felt like he'd healed as much during that time as he had the entire first month. The guys hadn't really accepted it yet and kept trying to help, and he kept moving as fast as he could to prove he didn't need it. Except when he did. Yesterday afternoon he'd tripped going down to their cabin and Nick had saved him from a nasty fall. But today he moved easily, at least once he was on his feet, and went out to the galley for lunch.

***

"I don't know how I can thank you guys enough," Melanie said, hugging Nick and Cody by turns. "Getting Ken out of that cult couldn't have been easy."

"Well, that's why we get paid the big bucks," Nick said dryly. They'd cut her a lot of slack on the bill and their week's work was basically netting them a week's groceries.

"If the cult hadn't taken all his money…"

"No, don't you worry about that," Cody told her and got himself another hug. "That's all right. Just take him home and feed him up. He'll be good as new in no time."

"I know, just—thank you."

"Yeah, well, Murray did most of the work." Their standard fallback when girls got too grateful.

"Where is Murray? I wanted to thank him, too. Is he around?"

"Yeah, somewhere," Nick said vaguely. "Maybe in the office." Certainly in the office, waiting for her to go. He'd been friendly to her, of course, showed her his computers and gave her an idea of how he would begin tracking down her brother, but he left the schmoozing to his partners these days. Pretty girls had always liked them and it was easy for Murray to go unnoticed while he pondered his place in society. And, seven weeks after the library, which he still hadn't managed to return to in spite of rapidly mounting fines, he was spending a lot of time doing just that.

"Could I go see him? I'd really like to say goodbye, at least. We're flying home to Montana tonight and I don't think we'll be back."

Nick and Cody exchanged a glance, both asking what to do and neither having the answer. Melanie mistook their silence for consent and was up on the aft deck and into the wheelhouse before they could stop her. She knew the way, having visited them nearly every day during the investigation. They went after her, resisting the urge to shout a warning so Murray would know she was coming.

"Murray?" she called, leaning in the doorway. He bolted out of his chair with a startled cry and spun around, grabbing the desk for support. When he recognized her, he was too busy waiting for his heart to start beating again to think of anything else, even the expression on her face. Her shock finally registered in his brain, and he looked down at himself in fearful shame. The office was so hot on this August afternoon, especially with all the equipment on, and he was wearing ragged cutoffs and a short sleeved shirt, unbuttoned to expose his bony chest. It was the first time Melanie, or for that matter anyone besides his doctors and lovers, had seen him without his protective shield of long pants and high collared shirts. His first reaction was an embarrassed blush, and then he felt ashamed even of that.

"Hi, Melanie," he said quietly, barely suppressing the tremble in his voice. "How are you?"

With great difficulty she dragged her eyes away from the hairless patches on his legs and the neat round burn scars on his chest, and forced herself to smile.

"F-fine. I just came to drop off your check and—and thank you all for what you did. I know it wasn't easy and—you're hurt, aren't you? I'm so sorry, I didn't know."

"No, no, I'm fine," he said with forced casualness. "This—these are old." He pulled his shirt closed and stepped into her tentative hug.

"I just wanted to thank you for all the hard work you did, rescuing Kenny for me and everything. It couldn't have been easy."

"I didn't do so much. Cody was the one who went undercover and got him out. But it wasn't a big deal, really. Not as hard as a lot of our jobs."

"Is—is that how you got hurt? On the job?"

"Sort of," he said shortly. His back stiffened and she knew enough to drop it.

"I'm sorry, it's none of my business. But I appreciate everything you did. You gave me back the only family I have."

"It's all right, Melanie, really. I'm just glad we could help." He relaxed a little, sensing that she was done talking about him, and accepted another gentle hug. She kissed his cheek, shy but needing to nonetheless, and he let her. "If you ever need anything else, I hope you'll think of us."

"I will, Murray. Thanks so much. Nick, Cody, thank you."

The guys were in the doorway, watching in case Murray needed to be extricated, but he seemed to have it under control. Cody said something smooth and polite, and escorted her back up on deck and off the boat.

"You okay, Boz? We tried to keep her out but she got past us. She's faster than she looks."

"Yeah, it's okay. She didn't scream or freak out at least."

"You really care what she thinks?"

"Kind of. I mean—not really—but—she is representative of a portion of the populace, and as such, I can gauge her reaction and extrapolate from that how others are likely to respond to me."

"Sure, the portion of the populace who comes from out of state and knows you for eight days. That's got to be valuable, right?"

"So you're saying that even though she didn't freak out, that doesn't mean I'm not still a freak?"

"No, I'm saying who gives a rat's ass what _anyone_ thinks?" Nick moved closer, unclenched Murray's fingers from the front of his shirt, and slipped it off. "You're so beautiful, man, how can you not know that?"

Murray closed his eyes and swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. Then Nick was kissing him and he didn't have to say anything. Nick's hands wandered over exposed skin, tracing the lines of bones and scars, showing Murray once more that those places could still bring pleasure. He was moaning softly, relaxed almost to the point of melting, when a sound at the door brought him sharply back to himself. Thinking Melanie had returned, he jerked away from Nick and reached for his shirt in the same motion.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." Not Melanie. Cody. Nick was about to shoo him away when Murray suddenly smiled.

"Is she gone?"

"Yeah, I walked her all the way to her car, just to make sure. She said she hopes you feel better soon."

"I think I will." He took Nick's hand, pulled him over to the door, and kissed Cody in that swift, teasing way they'd been missing all these weeks. "Come to bed with me."

"Both of us?" Cody asked, as if it had never happened before. It had been so long now that he'd almost resigned himself to it never happening again.

"Yes, both of you. If you want to, that is."

Nick and Cody studied his eyes for sincerity, then looked at each other, asking if it was worth the risk. They agreed that it was.

In the aft stateroom, Murray stepped out of his shorts and sat down on the bed, legs crossed tailor fashion, as if protecting himself had never been a concern. He leaned back on his hands and watched Nick and Cody fight to get out of their clothes, trying to help each other and only making it harder. Making everything harder. They were grappling, pawing and groping, while Murray smiled and stroked himself. His fingers slid over smooth scar tissue without registering, the pain gone and the knowledge temporarily forgotten, lost in pleasure.

It was a long time before either of his friends remembered him, but he didn't feel left out. He'd been selfish lately, not sharing them with each other the way they needed, and for now he was glad just to be here, bringing them all together again. Still, he wasn't sorry when Nick remembered where he'd started and tore himself out of Cody's demanding grip.

The sight of Murray's sly smile and slowly moving hand took his breath away for a moment, and then Nick was on him, pushing him down, forgetting about deep tissue bruises and recently healed ribs. Murray gave way beneath him, but firm hands on Nick's chest reminded him to carry his own weight. Cody climbed over them to claim a place on the bed, and Murray turned to him.

"What do you want?" Cody whispered, biting gently at his ear.

"I want you to hold me," Murray said, draping one long leg over Cody's hip. "And I want Nick to fuck me. If that's all right."

"Fine by me. Nick?"

"If you're sure." Nick was worried but it didn't show in his voice. He stroked Murray's shoulders, the line of his back and the curve of his hip, wondering if it was possible to do this without bringing up unbearable memories.

"I'm sure. It's all right, Nick. I love you."

The words went right to his heart, made his cock throb, and his hands tightened on Murray's body.

"I love you, too," he whispered, and then Cody said it, as well. Murray kissed him, pressing their hard cocks together, moaning against his mouth. Nick's hand slid down Murray's thigh, then up to his groin, and gently squeezed his sac. He spent a long time playing with Murray's ass, giving him a chance to protest, but his soft sounds of pleasure continued uninterrupted. He gasped at the cold when the lube touched him, but didn't flinch away from Nick's probing finger. The bigger body was warm against his back, Nick's whispers reassuring him, Cody's mouth a sweet distraction when fear tried to creep in. Two weeks ago he'd thought that being with both of them made him more vulnerable. But since then, he'd had time to relearn what he'd once known, that his friends would always work together to protect him.

He groaned, arching his back and biting Cody's neck as Nick slipped into him. He'd taken forever with the preparation and used vast quantities of lube but Murray was tight with scar tissue and Nick could tell it hurt.

"Is that okay?" he whispered. "Do you want to stop?"

"No. No, don't stop," Murray gasped, pulling away just a little and then pushing back. That time the pain was unmistakable, and Nick held him still with strong hands while Cody kissed and fondled, inflaming his passion to the point where pain ceased to matter. The next time Murray told him not to stop, Nick pressed forward and there was no resistance.

"Oh, Murray, that's good," he sighed. "That's so good—so tight—baby, so good."

Murray let the words wash over him, knowing Nick wasn't responsible for what he said in these situations. And it was good. Just about the best thing Murray had ever felt, in fact. He moved against Cody, letting him know to lie back, and the three of them shifted together. Nick rose up on his knees, lifting Murray with him, allowing Cody the freedom to stroke him properly. Murray laid one hand flat on Cody's stomach, curled his other arm around Nick's neck, and set a rhythm of long, fast thrusts that set both his lovers on fire.

Cody had been studying Murray's face almost constantly for the better part of seven weeks, searching for pain, for lies, for any secrets that he might need to know, but he hadn't seen this. This was the face of an angel, naked and vulnerable, drawn in fine lines of ecstasy. His eyes were closed, mouth open as he panted for breath, and there was nothing in his expression that bespoke anything but pleasure. Even the brazen need was joyful. Cody ran his thumb over the head of Murray's cock and whispered his name. The brown eyes opened, soft and sparkling, and Murray bowed his head to smile at him, still clinging to Nick with one hand.

"Oh, Cody," he sighed, his whole heart shining in his eyes. It went the center of him like nothing else ever had and Cody came with a shout of pure gratitude. For a moment all he could do was lie there and breathe, still captivated by the sight of the men joined above him. But he could tell that Murray was getting close, could see how his balls drew up and his breathing grew ragged, and felt it was his place to help. He wrapped both hands around Murray's throbbing shaft and slipped into a slightly faster rhythm. Murray had always liked that, the inconsistency unbalancing him and bringing him swiftly to a howling climax. As he came, he twisted around and captured Nick's mouth to stifle a scream, sucking Nick's orgasm out of him with rippling muscles and hungry tongue. But Nick kept his head a little better, managing to be gentle and support Murray when he tried to collapse, all his energy spent.

"I wish I had a video camera," Cody murmured. Murray blushed and drew away from Nick, lying down carefully on Cody's chest, hiding a little of himself for the first time. "I'm not kidding, Boz. That was so beautiful—you have no idea."

"Not more beautiful than you. That look on your face when you come—all golden and happy. I love you so much."

"What about Nick? He's beautiful, too."

"Well, I missed it, but I believe you."

"Yes," Nick said dryly, "I am beautiful, but I think Murray takes the prize tonight. Does anyone else want a shower?" He was trying to escape the conversation before it got too deep. Nick's emotions were too close to the surface to listen to much more. He withdrew slowly and Murray shuddered, hating the feeling of loss. Cody hugged him tighter, kissed him, then told him to hit the shower. He wanted to be alone, too, and Nick had made an offer. Murray, suddenly back in his familiar role of pawn, dropped him a wink and slid off the bed. Nick grabbed their robes and, as they left the room, Murray heard Cody begin to weep.

"He's okay," Nick whispered, sliding his hand around the back of Murray's neck.

"Yeah, I know. I think we all are."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Something Found (Quinlan Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/268179) by [der_tanzer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer)




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